


Finding his Words

by skargasm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek finds his words whilst Stiles' loses his...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding his Words

Stiles was shockingly quiet when it came to having sex. Derek sort of expected him to keep talking – Stiles’ mouth and his words should be registered as a weapon of mass destruction, a nerve gas that could blindside villains and heroes alike with the sheer amount of crap he spoke. He still couldn’t believe he had somehow managed to move from slamming Stiles into walls and steering wheels to sharing information, to hiding in a swimming pool to this. This being somehow surviving alphas and faeries and kitsune and fuck knows what else to being part of a pack. A majorly dysfunctional, fucked up pack but pack nevertheless. 

Derek wasn’t sure just when his apartment became the go-to place for pack meetings – sometime around when Melissa McCall said if she came home from shift one more time to find her fridge decimated and her hardwood floors scarred up she was going to come hunting for wolf pelts and that she would show what a screaming banshee _really_ sounded like. Maybe sometime around when Sheriff Stilinski said that he preferred it if their nefarious planning didn’t occur under his roof so that he had _some_ plausible deniability and just to let him know what he needed to cover up. Either way, there was nowhere else that would fit them all in and was discreet—it wasn’t as though Chris Argent was going to be offering up his den any time soon.

So yeah, his apartment became HQ, and he had to get used to Scott, Isaac, Jackson, Aiden and Ethan hanging around, scenting the rooms he didn’t designate as off limits; emptying his fridge; play fighting in his back yard. It was like having a family again, albeit the weirdest family ever. And that wasn’t taking into account the humans. Lydia with her insistence on bottled water— _expensive_ bottled water that somehow Derek found himself buying because it was easier than listening to her bitch when he didn’t. And Allison who made him sit down and accept her apology about what happened after her mother. Allison, who then made gentle efforts to ‘mother’ and understand him so that he found himself treating her with the same respect he had shown **his** mother because as the leader of the Argent Hunters she somehow made him feel that the respect was her due. 

And then there was Stiles. Mouth almighty with his plans that somehow worked, with his gangly limbs and creamy skin that seemed to glow in the (fake) firelight and moles that drew the eye almost as much as his goddamn mouth. It was all fine—he could cope with all of that—until one fight found him at home trying to clean a wound in an awkward place on his right side and Stiles was there with a medical kit and dabbing at the wound and talking, talking, talking in Derek’s ear until Derek kissed him just to shut him up.

It had nothing to do with Stiles finally being 18 and Derek knowing his birthday was a complete fluke. It was nothing to do with how his shoulders had broadened and he had grown into his limbs, and how his hair was now floppy and tangled around his head like a halo of ideas that were just waiting to be spewed out of his mouth. It was just to shut him up.

But it worked so well that Derek found himself throwing the medical kit aside and letting Stiles climb him like a tree before he took the stairs to his room and followed Stiles down onto his bed. And even when his mouth moved to Stiles’ jaw to nibble at the skin there, and sniff at the pure scent of Stiles to be found behind his ear and down his neck, Stiles still didn’t speak. He gasped, he moaned, he clutched at Derek’s back and wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist but he didn’t speak. 

But he didn’t really need to because Derek found his words. Words he hadn’t known were backed up in his brain and his mouth where he was telling Stiles how fucking gorgeous he was, and how much he loved his skin and wanted to play dot-to-dot with his moles. He was muttering about how he had his favourites of the jeans that Stiles wore because one particular pair hugged his ass in the best possible way and that Derek might have jacked off a time or two picturing Stiles in those jeans. He was yanking Stiles’ multitude of t-shirts and hoodies over his head and diving onto the browny pink nipples that called to him, lapping and biting them until they stood to attention and were more red than pink. All the time telling Stiles how he wanted to fuck him—wanted him on his hands and knees on his bed, with that beautiful ass in the air waiting for Derek to grab him by the hips and just yank him back onto his cock. 

How he wanted to press his entire body over Stiles on the bed, spread his arms out to the sides and hold Stiles’ hands down while he snapped his hips and drove his cock fast and hard into Stiles’ welcoming body, long, slow thrusts that made sure Stiles felt every thick inch of the dick that was owning him, remaking him from the inside. How he wanted to hear Stiles’ grunting with every thrust as he just took everything that Derek had to offer; how he wanted Stiles to come untouched because it showed how much he wanted Derek.

Derek did manage to stop himself once—pulled back and looked into Stiles’ face with his amber eyes blown wide with passion, his flushed cheeks and his lips all reddened and pillowy from hard, deep kisses. He stopped and asked him if this was okay, if he understood just what he was getting himself into. Watched as Stiles’ took a moment to get his brain back online and opened his mouth and Derek waited for the torrent of words that Stiles was going to say to either stop him or direct him or piss him off. 

“About damn time.” 

Stiles didn’t need his words after that.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, my muse is still just giving me snippets rather than a full story. This one wrote itself in five minutes and she didn't consult me at all - if I'd had my say this would have been WAY more explicit!!
> 
> Visit me on Tumblr at [s k manganelli](http://skmanganelli.tumblr.com) although all I do is drool over 30stm, Shannon Leto and Teen Wolf - hey, inspiration comes from many places!


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